Can't Help Falling In Love
by SquintSquad17
Summary: You know what they say about time nearly stopping? About everything seeming to move in slow motion? Yeah, that never happened for me. What did happen is that I heard a skidding sound, turned my head, and then felt myself slam against the window. AU IzAlex
1. Wise men say, only fools rush in

**A/N**: Right, so, I wasn't planning on writing more GA for a while, but Alex and Izzie would leave me alone. Anyway, this is most definitely an AU fic. It works under the idea that Izzie transfers to Mercy West to finish her residency, and is set about a year after the events of "There's No 'I' in Team." Anyway, it should all make sense soon. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the characters, and I also don't own the song _Can't Help Falling In Love _(I was listening to the Ingrid Michaelson version, by the way). I'm also not a doctor, so apologies to any medical errors.

---

"It's time to call it, Dr. Stevens."

The attending, Dennis Hayward, was the one who had spoken, but although he was standing next to me, his voice barely registered. I was too focused on saving the patient who had begun to crash minutes before.

"We can't stop," I said, shaking my head. "We have to keep trying." I was frantically calling out orders to charge the paddles, to pump the patient with one last dose of medicine, but nothing was working.

"You're done here, Stevens," Dr. Hayward said. "There's nothing else you can do."

"_No!_" My voice was unnecessarily loud, the one word clearly audible over the loud flatline. I looked down at the little boy lying on the table. He had just turned nine – _my parents told me I can have my party when I get out of the hospital, Dr. Stevens – _and he was dying. "We can't stop, we can't."

"Dr. Stevens." Hayward was firmer now, insisting. "If you're not going to call it, I'd be happy to do it myself."

No, no, I was wrong. He wasn't dying; he was already dead.

My eyes met Hayward's. I blinked once, twice. "T-time of d-death: 10:39 pm," I said finally, silently cursing my shaking voice. I knew better than this. Hadn't I done this – see patients die – so many times before? I was a resident now, not an intern. _Seriously. _I shouldn't be upset over the death of a patient. Even if that patient was a nine-year-old whose smile was enough to make someone's heart melt.

What would Cristina or Bailey tell me, I wondered suddenly, if they could see me now? _Suck it up, Stevens. People die everyday, and it's not your job to cry for each one._

I swallowed once, my throat burning painfully. Then, after telling the nurse standing next to me to close up the patient, I hurried out of the O.R, ignoring Hayward's sharp call of_ Stevens!_ as I left. I took a sharp right down the hallway, and it was all I could do to keep from sprinting down the corridor. I barely managed to limit myself to a walk that must have looked ridiculously ungainly.

As I moved further down the hall, not quite knowing where I was headed, I heard my footsteps echoing in the hall.

_Thump, thump._

_Thump, thump._

It sounded like the beating heart I couldn't save.

At this thought, Cristina burst back into my head. _Get it together, Izzie. Quit waxing poetic and go back to work. Are you a doctor or not?_

Really, Cristina had picked a wonderful day to get her voice stuck in my mind. I finally stopped walk-running when I reached the waiting room. It was full of family members worried about their loved ones, full of people who wouldn't notice an upset resident unless it was their loved one's doctor. I sat down on an uncomfortable chair and risked a brief glance to the person on my left. It was a young woman, who had curly brown hair sticking out wildly and a photograph clutched tightly in her hand. She didn't bother to look up at me, but I did manage to catch a glimpse of the person in the picture. It was a young man, her husband, I guessed, and he was smiling broadly at whoever had taken the photo.

I tore my eyes away from the photograph, ignoring the whispers in my mind that the man looked a little like someone else I knew. I brushed back an escaped blonde tendril with a little more force than necessary, and then looked around. I caught sight of the clock; it was nearly the end of my shift, which was welcome news. If I could just stick it out for fifteen more minutes, then I could go home and crash on my apartment couch.

I gave myself one last minute to collect myself and then stood. I didn't want to go find Hayward and see if he needed me to do anything other than check on my patients one last time, but I really had no choice. I was pretty sure he wouldn't be too happy about my little act earlier, but at the very least, no one had been hurt by it. It had just been unprofessional and something I should have known better than to do at this point. You think after Denny, after everything at Seattle Grace, that I'd have learned to keep my caring to myself.

Fortunately, I found Hayward easily enough; he was just leaving the operating room when I walked by. He fell into stride next to me, the lighting in the hallway making the lines on his face look deeper than normal. He was about forty-five, I thought, older than most of the residents at Seattle Grace had bee. And less attractive than them, too, I thought with a small smile.

"Don't pull anything like that again, Stevens," he said at once. "You can't always save your patients, and you can't just storm out at the end of the surgery. I know you've have a history of becoming too attached to patients, but let's try and break that."

I nodded, shaking off the small hint at my past. As much as I didn't want to be having this conversation, I was happy that he wasn't actually angry. "Yes, Dr. Hayward. It was a one time thing; I'll be better tomorrow, I promise."

He gave me a rare smile and then said, "Just a last check on patients and you're free for the day."

And with that, I watched as Hayward disappeared down the hallway, and then took off for my patients' rooms.

---

Thirty minutes later – which was fifteen minutes after I wanted to be leaving – I was walking out of the Mercy West doors and outside to my car. The air was freezing, and the rain from earlier had turned into snow. If the snowfall picked up much more, then I'd probably be called back into work early tomorrow. Drivers and bad weather were a horrible combination.

I readjusted my scarf as the bitter gusts bit at my cheeks and neck, and then began walking a little faster. The sooner I got home, the better. The wind blew again and I shivered, wishing, not for the first time, that I had chosen to be a doctor somewhere it wasn't cold. I'd bet in places like Texas they didn't have to worry about getting a rush of injuries because of black ice and blizzards.

Instead, I'd chosen Seattle Grace, which had been, well, it had been a lot of different things. Now, though, I was at Mercy West to finish my residency. I'd made the decision to transfer a year ago to the day, and that, I'd begun to realize, was the reason I'd been so flustered at work recently. Ah, who was I kidding? I'd been a damn mess. Crying over patients dying, hiding in the waiting room, and –

I stopped mid-thought. Actually, I was forced to stop mid-thought because I had decided to step on a patch of ice and fall on my ass.

"Jesus Christ," I muttered, gingerly standing back up and hoping nothing was permanently injured. I took a slow step forward and seemed to still be in one piece. Right, so where had I stopped? Yeah, me being a mess. The reason behind my leaving was a lot of different things. Sure, there was one thing – one person – in particular, which I was sure as hell not thinking about right then, but other stuff happened that had made me transfer, too. Maybe in another year I'd be able to think about that – about him – without wanting to start baking muffins like crazy, but not yet.

I sighed and resumed my earlier, brisker walking pace, only to find I'd reached my car. I climbed in, started the engine, turned on the heater at once, and pulled out of my parking space. The drive back to my (really crappy and small) apartment took about twenty minutes (which makes it closer to Seattle Grace than Mercy), and it was days like this one that made me want to speed the whole way home. I resisted the urge to go flying down the street ten miles faster than I should – my paranoid side kicking in, I guess.

I was nearly home when I started hitting every red light possible. The last light, in particular, seemed hell-bent on keeping me in my car all night. Finally, _finally, _the light turned green and I accelerated into the intersection.

You know what they say about time nearly stopping? About everything seeming to go in slow motion? Yeah, that never happened for me. What did happen is that I heard a skidding sound, turned my head, and then felt my head slam against my window. I might have heard the glass shatter, too, but maybe not.

Then I flew through the air, and believe me, there was nothing slow about that. But that flipping is the last thing I registered. That and a flood of pain.

After that, everything went black.


	2. Shall I stay? Would it be a sin?

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Hope you all like what comes next; it's a bit frantic, given the circumstances Izzie's in. :)

---

_Then I flew through the air, and believe me, there was nothing slow about that. But that flipping is the last thing I registered. That and a flood of pain._

_After that, everything went black._

I woke up when we pulled up to the hospital. Before then, I had been out for a while; exactly how long, I'm not quite sure. But in any case, I lost a period of at least five minutes from the moment of the accident to our arrival at the ambulance bay. I guess that was a good thing – I don't remember being stuck in my car, or recall the paramedics pulling me out of it.

I do think I woke up once en route – I have a vague memory of a woman telling me to open my eyes and asking me whether I knew my name. I think I crashed once, too. But otherwise, it was mostly me suspended somewhere between death and life. A bit like sleeping, really, if that makes any sense.

But when I actually regained consciousness – and I don't mean just for a flash – the ambulance was screeching to a stop. There were frantic voices above me, and a lot of people shuffling from one place to another. I noticed all of that, of course, but what I was really focusing on at that moment was the heavy wave of pain hitting me like a bunch of bricks. I felt like I was on fire; I felt like I had flames stabbing all over my body.

Then the doors of the ambulance burst open, and a rush of cold air flew inside. I think I shivered, or least I would have, had I been in better shape to. My eyes wouldn't open – although I was trying to get them to – but I could still hear perfectly well.

The paramedics began to shout orders to the people in the ambulance bay, and I could hear the doctors talking. And for some reason, the voices were familiar. Maybe I was back at Mercy West and Dr. Hayward was there.

"God, I hope this is good." That didn't sound like Hayward, though. It sounded like Cristina.

"You're a horrible person. Does 'do no harm' ring any bells?" That was George. Why was he talking? Why was George here? "You can't _hope_ people are badly hurt."

I could almost hear Cristina roll her eyes. "I've been on my feet all day, and now I'm standing outside freezing my ass off. I'm pretty sure I can hope this person is in dire need of a major surgery all I want."

George and Cristina were right outside, and there was a third person scoffing at the other two. An oddly familiar scoff.

_Seattle Grace. _Oh god, they had taken me to Seattle Grace.

And then I was being moved off the ambulance. They were calling out my stats, describing what had happened. I could make out _Caucasian female, crash victim, lost her once on the way here. _

And then I heard –

"Shit." There was Cristina again. "_Shit, shit, shit_."

"That's… that's…" George's stammering.

"Izzie_._" There. The third person. That was the voice I had been waiting to hear. Alex was outside, too. "That's _Izzie_."

"Jesus Christ," George said.

And then the air around me exploded into a flurry of voices yelling to get Bailey, to get the Chief, to _get someone, damn it. _

My eyes were still refusing to open, but I could hear Cristina and George and Alex telling the paramedics to get out of the way, and then I was moving all over again. And this was making everything hurt worse, and I think I cried out, and mostly I think I was just wishing for it all to be over.

I finally managed to open my eyes for the first time just after I had been pushed through the hospital doors. Bright lights shone above me, too vivid to do anything but threaten to blind me. The shuffling and shouting were still following me around, and the pain that I'd first felt in the ambulance bay was amplifying quickly.

As I was hurried down the hall, I tried to take a second to figure out what was wrong with me – a broken wrist, maybe a bruised rib…. I stopped almost at once. I should have been able to tell what had happened, but at the moment, all I could register was that I was hurting. And hurting badly.

"Izzie, can you hear me?" George's face appeared above mine, blurry and fading at the edges. "Do you know where you are?"

I tried to reply, but found that I couldn't say anything. Maybe it was because I'd been intubated, but maybe not. To be honest, I wasn't sure about much of anything right now. Instead, I blinked twice, hoping someone would know that I wasn't brain dead or something.

"She blinked." That was Cristina's voice; trust her to notice that.

"Yeah, but we need to get her to an O.R.," George said, and I could still make out the outline of his face.

"Hear that, Yang?" Alex hissed from somewhere to my right. "Looks like you're going to get your major surgery."

"_Shut_ _up_."

All of their arguing, I was finding, was making me tired. I wanted them to stop yelling, stop fighting, stop bothering to save me. It wasn't like I was worth it, or anything.

My eyes flickered shut, making the bright lights and George's face disappear.

"Damn it, Izzie." This was Alex talking, I knew. His voice was low, but it seemed frantic for some reason. "Iz, don't close your eyes. Stay with me."

I wanted to tell him to leave me alone; I wanted to say I was tired and just wanted to go to sleep. But no words would form in my mouth, and suddenly, it seemed like the world was spinning. Twisting and turning, I knew I was losing my grip on consciousness, but there wasn't anything I could do about it.

"Iz, please," Alex said, and I thought it felt like someone was holding my hand now. "Please, don't do this. You've got to hold on."

And then, it what was becoming a rather unfortunate habit, everything went black all over again.


	3. Like a river flows, surely to the sea

**A/N**: Sorry for the delay in updates! For the purpose of this story, Ghost!Denny/Izzie never happened (thank God, right?). McArmy, however, is totally here because I love him. Oh, and brownies for anyone who spies the (really obvious) House reference. Hope you like it, and don't forget to review!

--

_And then, it what was becoming a rather unfortunate habit, everything went black all over again._

The last time I had lost consciousness, I had found myself floating in black space. There was nothing to see, nothing to hear – just darkness all around me.

This time, however, was different. I said before that my life never flashed before my eyes when my car was hit. Well, I guess almost dying another time was enough to have to finally re-watch my life.

It was a bit like dreaming, really. Well, except for the part where I was having a nightmare, and except for the part where it was true. That was the worst of it – that I didn't get the comfort of knowing I would simply wake up and be able to tell myself it was only my imagination. No, I would wake up – if I even woke up at all – and have to tell myself it had actually happened. The other difference was that I wasn't a part of the memory; I was merely an observer. Like someone watching a movie, but with too many emotional ties to the scene unfolding in front of them.

I suppose my memory had to do with Alex because I had just seen him for the first time in a year. At least, that was what I was telling myself as I watched the images flash vividly in front of my eyes. (It _wasn't_ because I thought about him all the time, okay?)

The first thing I could make out clearly was the couch. Then I saw the television, the kitchen table, the ugly wallpaper I was dying to change. We were in our apartment, a tiny one that Alex had finally agreed to renting with me. I would have preferred springing for something a little bit nicer, but honestly, despite the fact that we could barely move around in the apartment, I loved it. The fact that we were living together – like normal people in a normal relationship – was enough.

We were standing beside the couch, my hands poised on my hips, his folded across his chest. We were arguing. Like everyday, like always.

"_Damn it, Izzie," Alex was saying, "do you always have to do this?" _

As I watched on, I cringed. I knew this memory. This was fight we had before he said – before I left.

"_Do what?" I replied. _

"_Make such a huge deal out of everything."_

_I scoffed in derision. "Seriously, Alex? You really think I have no right to bring this up?"_

_He didn't reply, but the way he had narrowed his eyes was more than enough of an answer._

"_You slept with some nurse!" I spat, my voice rising slightly. "How can you expect me not to bring this up when you cheated on me with someone whose name I'll bet you don't know."_

"_Jessica," he said smoothly, never missing a beat. "Her name is Jessica Brown. She works in Peds."_

_I groaned. Of course he'd know this one's name. "We've been through this before. _You_ were the one who wanted to go steady," I said. My mind was reeling. We had been fine for year – _a year_ – and now Alex had decided it was too much. "You were the one who made me – me lo-" The words caught in my throat, and I shook my head slightly. "I care about you, Alex, but you still have to go and screw this up."_

_We stood in silence. And for one moment, one glorious moment, I thought he was going to apologize. I thought he was going to say he loved me, too, and that we'd kiss, and that I'd forget everything he'd done tonight. But then he spoke._

"_You care about me, fine. But what," he hissed, "makes you think I ever gave a damn about you?"_

_I flinched, feeling as though someone had punched me in the stomach. The words rang in my ears, and my voice seem to disappear. It took all my effort to swallow and reply. "You – you said you did." It was pathetic, even to my own ears._

_He smirked. _Smirked, _for God's sake. "People lie, Izzie; everybody lies."_

_Like you're lying now, I wanted to scream. I wanted to shout that he was only doing this because he couldn't handle what we'd gotten into. I wanted to shake him into knowing that I wasn't going to give up on him, wasn't going to let him down, wasn't going to break his heart._

_I shut my eyes and took a deep breath. I knew, like I always had, that if we couldn't make it, it would end like this. With us, it would never end quietly and nicely. No, no, with us, it would end with shouting and insults and us yelling everything we'd always wanted to say but had held back._

_And I knew, that no matter what I said now, it wouldn't make a difference. He was scared, and all of my words wouldn't stop him from being so. I couldn't fix this, not without his help. And I was tired of this. I was so tired of being yelled at, of being forgotten, of being cheated on. I couldn't take it anymore. I loved him – too much, really – but I couldn't stay with him._

_He was hell-bent on driving me away, and I did the only thing I could do – I let him._

"_Then b__ye, Alex," I said, my voice soft. "When you realize what you've done – that you're only scared – I hope you know it'll be too late."_

I turned on my heel and walked out of the apartment. Sometimes I wonder if I heard him calling out to me, telling me to wait, but I know it's only wishful thinking. Alex knew perfectly well what he was doing when he pushed me away.

That was the last time I saw him, too. After that, I'd gotten my things from the apartment while he'd had a late shift, I'd stayed with Meredith for a few days, and then I'd transferred from Seattle Grace to Mercy West.

And now, well, now, I was back at Seattle Grace. Sort of, at least. I don't know if it counts if I'm half-alive and not conscious of anything except for memories of Alex.

"Izzie?"

The voice startled me, although everything around me remained black. I thought for a moment that it was another memory, but the voices continued talking and I began to think I was waking up.

"Izzie, can you hear me?" It was Meredith, or maybe it was Cristina. I couldn't tell. "You're in recovery," they said.

Recovery? I guess that meant I'd already had surgery. Weird, that so much could happen that I was completely unaware of. No voices spoke for a moment, so I tried to open my eyes. Light flooded my vision, blinding and painful. Above me, I heard someone mutter excitedly. So maybe Cristina and Meredith were both there.

I tried again, more slowly this time, and after some effort, I opened my eyes. I was in an ICU recovery room, one I was sure I'd been in many times before as a doctor. It was strange to be here again as a patient. And Jesus, the bed's were ridiculously uncomfortable.

"You're awake," Meredith said, grinning. Beside her, Cristina smiled slightly.

I nodded. I'd been extubated after surgery, which was good - I was breathing normally on own. I watched them standing there, waiting for someone to say something. They looked the same, just a little older. It was weird, though, to see them again after a year of adjusting to a new life.

"I'm glad you're awake," Cristina said, and for a moment, I thought she had gone soft or something. "At least now," she continued, "Karev can stop asking me if I'm happy I got my major surgery."

I smiled weakly. "Surgery?" I croaked out, my voice raspy.

"Splenectomy," Meredith said. "Your spleen ruptured in the crash; it was severe, so we took to you surgery immediately."

I opened my mouth to ask who'd done the surgery and what else was wrong with me, but someone else spoke before I could get the words out.

"Hey, Iz?" Alex was standing in the doorway of my room. Awesome.

Cristina and Meredith glanced once at each other, then back at me.

"I'm supposed to meet Derek now," Meredith said, the quickly spoken words jumbled together.

"Yeah, and Hunt asked me to come find him when I had the chance," Cristina said.

They both turned and walked towards the door. "We'll be back later, okay, Izzie?" Meredith called over her shoulder.

I wanted to yell at them to wait, to ask them to come back and not leave me with _him_. _And who was Hunt?_ I wondered absentmindedly, my eyes trained on Alex leaning against the frame of the doorway.

"Karev," Cristina said, nodding as they passed him in the doorway.

He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing in response. He stayed standing across the room for a moment, an expression on his face that I didn't recognize.

"Something you wanted?" I asked finally, wishing my voice still didn't sound so hoarse.

Alex took a step towards my bed. "I wanted to talk to you, actually."

Oh, God. "All right," was the only reply I could manage.


	4. Darling, so it goes

**A/N**: Sorry for the slow update (and also sorry for any medical errors in this chapter). Hope you enjoy the chapter, and don't forget to review!

---

_Alex took a step towards my bed. "I wanted to talk to you, actually."_

_Oh, God. "All right," was the only reply I could manage._

The moment he took a few steps closer to me, I realized I probably should have feigned sleep or claimed I was in dire pain. I didn't want to talk to him; I couldn't talk to him. It was bad enough I'd had to remember what he'd said to me the last time I had seen him, but now I had to speak with him again.

Alex was standing to the right of my bed now, close enough that I could reach out to touch him if I had any sort of energy whatsoever. As it were, I was stuck propped up against the pillow, unmoving. My arms felts like lead pipes, and my stomach was sore from the surgery. I was still struggling to come to grips with how strange it felt to be a patient in the hospital I used to work at. I wondered fleetingly who I had treated in this room and then thanked whoever was listening that I wasn't in Denny's room. That would have been too much to handle.

I swallowed once and then glanced at Alex. He looked the same, I noticed. Not that I had expected any wild changes in the year we'd been apart, but I guess some bit of me thought it had been centuries since we'd seen each other last. Well, actually, if I looked closely, he looked more tired than I remembered him being. There were dark smudges under his eyes and it seemed as though he hadn't slept in a few days.

He brought his eyes up to meet mine, but said nothing. In place of any sort of conversation, there was a horribly awkward silence. It hovered between us ominously before I finally worked up the nerve to say something. "What did you want to talk about?" I asked, my voice quiet.

Alex shuffled from one foot to the other, looking uncomfortable. "I – I – are you feeling any better?"

"Oh, yeah," I muttered, "I feel great. Nothing like a car wreck and a splenectomy to make your day." And from the feel of it, I had two broken ribs and a broken wrist to boot.

"Right, stupid question." With a slightly abashed look, he sat down in the chair that was near my bed.

He did it with a sense of familiarity that made me wonder if he'd been in the room while I was unconscious. I didn't ask, though, and instead the silence fell again. I broke it as quickly as I could, as it was nearly unbearable to sit quietly with him. "So," I began, "how's Seattle Grace been? Anything happen while I was away?" I wondered if he'd catch what I really wanted to ask:_ Have you dated anyone while I was at Mercy West? Do you miss me? Did you even notice I left?_

Alex laughed sardonically. "Yeah, plenty has happened."

"Want to fill me in?" I actually didn't care who had screwed what intern, who had killed what patient, or who was currently the closest to snapping – but other than kicking him out of the room (which I desperately wanted to do), talking about mundane things with Alex was about all I could do. I refused to kick him out because I was attempting to appear as if his presence didn't bother me. This, to be honest, was about the biggest lie humanly possible.

"There's a lot of ground to cover," he said. "You sure you want to hear it all?"

"Do I look like I'm going anywhere?" I attempted a small smile, but I'm pretty sure it looked closer to a grimace. Seriously, did he _really_ think it was a good idea to come talk to me after some severe trauma? I could barely think straight when he _wasn't_ in the room.

"All right, then, but just remember you asked for it." He grinned wickedly for a moment, reminding me of what it had been like with him before everything had happened. "Let's see," he continued, "Hunt's still here. Shepherd and Mere are still together or whatever, O'Malley is still O'Malley." He paused for a moment, seeming to consider what to say next. After a few seconds had passed, he sighed and then began talking again. "Look, Izzie, I didn't come in here to talk about the latest gossip. If you really want to know what sort of crap has happened since you left, you can ask someone else."

"I know," I managed to choke out. I felt so helpless in the hospital bed, barely able to move, unable to walk away. I was vulnerable, defenseless. I was hating every minute of having him in the room. I glanced toward the doorway, hoping to God that Meredith or Cristina would come back in, but I had no such luck. Hell, at this point, I would have taken Bailey or Sloan.

Alex fidgeted again, looking a far cry away from the cocky bastard I was used to. "Iz, when I saw you in the ambulance bay, it was like... I don't know, I just stopped thinking about anything else but you. You were the only thing that mattered anymore – keeping you safe." He paused. "I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry, Izzie. I've–"

"No," I hissed, cutting him off, "you don't _get _to care about me. You don't get to worry and you don't get to say you're sorry like nothing happened." This was too much, too soon. Who was he to barge in here and say he was sorry after a year? Who was he to have anything to do with me anymore?

"Iz, I–"

"It doesn't work that way, okay, Alex?" I said. "Just because I almost died, it doesn't mean we get to have to this little reunion. I don't care about you anymore." The words burned my throat as I said them. I knew they were lies, but honestly, I didn't care. "You had your chance, Alex."

"I know I did," he said. "I've spent the past year wishing I hadn't screwed it up. Do you really think that girl from Peds meant more to me than you, Iz? I was scared, like you said."

I couldn't say anything for a minute or so. Here Alex was, saying everything I'd waited to hear for the past year, and it didn't matter. I couldn't tell him that I still loved him, couldn't tell him that I wanted to do nothing more than accept his apology. I couldn't do it because I didn't want my heart ripped out like that again; I wasn't sure I would survive it a second time. "Get out of my room." I said this as firmly and as coldly as I could, although my voice was starting to fray at the ends.

Standing up from the chair by my bed, he sighed, frustrated, and ran a hand through his hair. "God damn it, Izzie, will you just give me a chance to explain? I know I screwed up, okay? I know I did. But –"

"Get out of my room, Alex," I repeated. "Just leave."

After I said this, I suddenly realized I was breathing too quickly, my vision was going fuzzy, and what he was saying was becoming harder to hear. Warning bells were going off somewhere in my head. I knew I should be able to figure out what was going on, but all I could think of was wanting Alex gone. I didn't want to deal with the pain of seeing him again along with the pain currently coursing through my body.

_Dizziness, confusion, weakness, nausea. _Something was wrong. I tried to say something more to Alex, tried to tell him I needed help, but no words came out. _Loss of speech._

Oh, God. Sometimes it took hours after head trauma for symptoms to present…

"Izzie?" Alex's voice rang from somewhere above me. He was checking my eyes, I thought distantly. "Izzie, can you hear me?"

I could, barely, but it wasn't like I could tell him that. Then, as everything began to spin faster and faster, I heard Alex yell, "I need some help in here!"


	5. Some things are meant to be

A/N: As always, sorry for the slow update and apologies in advance for any medical errors. Just a note that none of this fits in with what's wrong with Izzie in the current season. There's one not so nice word at the end of this chapter, just so you're warned, and there are most likely three or four more chapters, if anyone's curious. Hope you all enjoy it!

--

_I could, barely, but it wasn't like I could tell him that. Then, as everything began to spin faster and faster, I heard Alex yell, "I need some help in here!"_

The thing about head injuries is that they don't always present themselves right away. It was a lesson we were frequently reminded of as interns, with Bailey yelling at us to check in on patients so we wouldn't miss anything.

Nausea, headache, sleepiness, glossy eyes. There were so many things to look for, so many warning signs that a patient's injuries were more serious than we had thought at first.

With regard to me, well, I remember feeling dizzy, feeling exhausted, feeling like I just wanted to close my eyes and never wake up.

I should have known something was wrong; I should have said something. I should have, but I didn't. I think that, for once, I didn't want to be the doctor. I didn't want to be the one who had to worry about transplant organs or the always full clinic or little boys who died without getting their birthday wishes. I didn't want to be the one who had to save everyone else. I just wanted someone to save me.

And no one did, not really. Meredith and Cristina left, and Alex, well, maybe Alex just assumed that after fixing a ruptured spleen, the worst was already over. Maybe Alex wasn't a doctor when he was in the room – maybe he was just someone who used to love me.

In any case, when there's bleeding in your brain, it's never a good thing. It can't be hard to know that, even if you aren't a doctor.

Anyway, once Alex called for help, I was rushed in for an emergency scan to figure out where I was hemorrhaging. Then I was hurried into surgery for a craniotomy to relieve the pressure on my brain. Of course, I'm just guessing, seeing as I lost consciousness for what I think was the third time in less than 24 hours. I'm also, once again, assuming you don't have to be a doctor to know that's never a good thing.

And maybe, after all that had happened over the past day, I should have died. Maybe all the trauma and the surgeries should have killed me. Maybe I _deserved_ to die after letting Alex go and letting Denny go and letting my life at Seattle Grace go. Maybe.

What happened, though, was that I woke up. I don't know how long it had been since everything had gone black when Alex was standing over me. Hours, days, whatever. Time had stopped registering a while ago. But still, I woke up.

When I opened my eyes, it took a few moments for everything to focus. Although even when it did, I didn't see anyone. I thought, for a glorious second, that I was finally alone. But then, I looked to my right to find that Alex was there, sitting in a chair by my bed. He was asleep and out of his scrubs, which led me to believe his shift had ended a long time ago. He looked awful, worse than before. The smudges under his eyes were more pronounced, and he was seemed like he was forty years older than he was. There was another chair next to him, but it was empty. If anyone else had been there, they had either left to go home or were back on the clock.

I watched him for a moment, not really wanting him to wake up. If he did, though, I was seriously considering feigning sleep this time. He obviously wasn't going to push me to talk to him if I was still out of it, and I was fairly sure I could be convincing enough. If he caught me staring, though, he'd probably start babbling before I could stop him.

"I brought coffee, if you want some."

The new voice in the room startled me, and if it had been a bit more feasible, I probably would have jumped in my bed. I looked back to my left and found George standing in the doorway. George's eyes widened at finding me awake, although his shock quickly shifted into a smile.

He opened his mouth to say something, but Alex suddenly shuffled in the corner, the sound having jolted him awake. He opened his eyes and looked between George and I. No one said anything, though, and silence returned full force.

George glanced between us. "Izzie, you're up!" He sounded genuinely happy, although his eyes were still darting between Alex and I, perhaps wondering if he had interrupted something.

I smiled half-heartedly. "Yeah."

"How do you feel? Are you all right, do you think?" George asked.

Alex answered before I could. "Not a good time, O'Malley."

"Oh, I can leave, if you want," George said quickly. "Alex, I thought you might need some caffeine since you've been here–"

"Get out, O'Malley," Alex cut in.

I scoffed softly and glared at Alex. "Don't worry, George; you can stay. I haven't had any time to talk to you yet."

George looked torn, standing there in the doorway. He was clearly trying not to cause any problems, which I usually would have appreciated, but hated at this instant. I could tell he wanted to stay (and I wanted him to stay, too), but the glare that Alex was fixing on him was convincing him otherwise. After a apologetic glance at me, he said, "Iz, I'll talk to you later. Promise." He smiled briefly, then turned and left the room, still carrying both drinks.

"Wish he'd at least left the coffee," Alex murmured once we were alone again.

"Oh, shut up, Alex," I hissed. All the pain that had been dulled by sleep was slowly returning full force. And with it, my anger. Couldn't I get just a few minutes of peace at Seattle Grace? "What's so important that it can't wait until after I've talked to George?"

"It's about before; you told me to leave, then you crashed–" he said this last word hesitantly "–and I just wanted to talk to you again."

My head was aching, my wrist felt like it was being jabbed at by an ice pick, and my ribs were aching repeatedly. I really, _really_ didn't want to deal with this right now. "I don't know what you're expecting me to say, Alex. You can't just talk to me a few times and expect everything to magically go back to the way it was a year ago." I paused and took a breath. "And in any case, the way things were a year ago weren't all that great."

"I don't think everything will be the same, Izzie, and I don't want them to be," he replied. "I want them to be different, to be better. I screwed up, I know I did."

"God, Alex, it's not that easy." Did he seriously think it would be?

"I still love you, Izzie." His eyes met mine. "I never stopped."

Stuck in the hospital bed, watching Alex once again say everything I'd waited for him to say for the past twelve months, I felt helpless. I wanted, more than anything, to say that I still loved him, too. Of course I still loved him; I'd always loved him. I even went at far as to open my mouth and almost said it back to him.

_Almost_.

But I didn't. I couldn't. I refused to go through that again. I honestly didn't think I could. Even if a car crash didn't kill me, having my heart broken a second time would.

"Fuck you, Alex," I said finally. My voice didn't waver; instead, it cut through the space between us like a knife.

"Iz – "

"Stop talking and get the hell out of my room."

Alex hesitated for a moment longer, then closed his eyes for a moment. Defeated, he turned, walked away from me, and left the room. He didn't look back once.

And as I watched him leave, I couldn't do anything but wonder if it had hurt him this much when I had left last year.


End file.
